


The Trouble With Trolls

by Lewlou15



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, Dean Whump, Gen, Humor, Sam Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lewlou15/pseuds/Lewlou15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short and to the point, the brothers hunt a troll. Lots of good old brotherly bonding and hijinks. Assume spoilers for seasons 1-7 minus most of the angst. Not a slash fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1. Winchesters on PaTROLL

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks goes to LilyBolt and Shakespeare's Lemonade over at FF.Net for all their hard work on getting this presentable enough to post. This one's for you girls! (You know why!) *Winks*
> 
> Also of note: After all the angst of season nine and the almost complete lack of brotherly bonding, I took the liberty of cramming in as much brotherly banter and bonding as possible. Afterwards, it was brought to my attention that it seems to be set it in the earliest seasons (seasons 1, 2, and 3) but that it not the case. So just feel free to set it in whichever season (I personally see it being set any where between season 4 and mid-season 7) you want and pretend that our boys have been supplied a steady flow of of nitrous oxide to chase away all the pain. Happy reading to you all!
> 
> Disclaimer:I don't own Supernatural and all the usual fine print blah, blah, blah that goes with it.

**1\. Winchesters On PaTROLL**

 

 

Once upon a time, there were two brothers who hunted things and saved people. They had crossed paths with ghosts, ghouls, demons, and angels. However, this is not a story about any of those. It is instead the story of how the two brothers took on a very stupid troll and won...

 

* * * * *

 

“Hey, Sam? Looks like we've got a case.” Dean announced.

 

“Oh yeah? Whaddya got?” Sam queried.

 

“Here.” Dean pointed to an article in the paper he'd been reading and slid it over to Sam. “Harlan County, Kentucky. A bunch of hikers have been disappearing from Black Mountain.”

 

Sam quickly skimmed the article, paraphrasing aloud. “Says here that they've had sixteen missing persons reports filed over the last three years. The hikers disappear one or two at a time without a trace. They suspect black bears are responsible.”

 

“So? You think it could be our kind of thing?” Dean asked, studying his brother's expression and hoping for an affirmative answer. It had been a little quiet on the hunting front lately and he was starting to feel restless.

 

After a beat of silence Sam responded. “Could be. Let me do some research and we'll go from there.” That said, Sam hunkered down over his laptop to do what he did best.

 

_**Two hours later...** _

 

“So get this. I looked up black bear attacks in Kentucky going all the way back to the 1830's. The only one reported was in 2010 at Red River Gorge.” Sam stated.

 

“Ok. And?” Dean prodded.

 

“Well, Red River Gorge is like a hundred miles away from the areas where the hikers went missing and there have been no bear attacks on Black Mountain, or at least none recorded. So, I'm thinking that this could definitely be our kind of thing, especially since the authorities have not recovered a single body or found any of the victims' belongings. Also, Black Mountain is a coal mining region. There could be an abandoned mine or some empty caves around which would give this attacker plenty of places to hide.” Sam finished, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.

 

“So, you thinking what I'm thinking?” Dean asked, tipping back his coffee mug sure that he and his brother were on the same page.

 

Sam nodded and said,“There's not a lot to go on but I'm thinking we're probably dealing with a Wendigo. There's a couple things that bother me, though.”

 

“Yeah? What's that?” Dean asked.

 

“First of all, Wendigos are usually found in the woods of northern Minnesota and southern Canada. This seems to be a little too far south for one to be.”

 

“Didn't seem to make any difference to that one we hunted in Colorado.” Dean reminded his brother.

 

“Point taken.” Sam conceded.

 

“So what's the other thing bothering you about this?”

 

“Well, in my research, I read that Black Mountain is still a place where they actively mine for coal, so...” Sam's voice trailed off leaving Dean to wonder what his geek brother was thinking.

 

“So?” Dean finally prompted, having grown tired of waiting.

 

“So, with all the miners going back and forth through that area, why haven't there been more missing persons reported? Not that I want there to be more missing people,” Sam quickly interjected, “but something's not adding up here.”

 

“Hmmm. Don't know. Guess we'll just have to find out more when we get there.”

 

With that, Dean slapped his hands together, rose from the table and asked in a gratingly cheerful voice, “You ready to go camping, Sammy?”

 

Sam closed his laptop with a long suffering groan.

 

“Dude, I hate camping.” he groused, causing Dean to chuckle. He couldn't disagree, however, since the last Wendigo hunt they'd been on had been a bit rough on both of them. Still, they had a job to do, and Dean turned to pack up his duffel bag.

 

Thirty minutes later, the boys had stowed their bags in the trunk, checked out of their scuzzy motel room, and were on their way to Kentucky.

 

* * * * *

 

It was early evening when the brothers arrived at their destination and Dean checked them into the first cheap motel they came across that offered wi-fi. The fact that their new “residence”was built to resemble a log cabin gave both brothers pause, but they'd definitely stayed in odder places.

 

Upon opening their door, they quickly discovered that most of the charm was on the outside of the building. Inside, the room was outdated, harkening back to the sixties, and very cramped. The worn looking beds were so close together that it was amazing that there was room for the nightstand scrunched between them. The air hung heavy with unpleasant odors and the carpet was particularly disgusting, but the brothers were used to that.

 

“Ah,” Dean sighed, claiming the bed closest to the door and flopping down on it. “Home sweet home away from home. By the way, dibs on the first shower.”

 

Sam shot his brother a look then shook his head. “You better get on it then. I'm gonna see what else I can find out about these disappearances.” Sam grumbled.

 

Dean got up off the bed and grabbed his duffel to pull out some clean clothes when he noticed a slip of paper on the night stand. Picking it up, he quickly skimmed it and then burst out laughing.

 

“What?” Sam asked, annoyed that Dean was distracting him.

 

“Listen to this,” Dean chuckled. “' Please note: In an effort to keep our towels supply looking its best, we have placed these pieces of stained, but laundry clean toweling here for your use in cleaning guns, fishing equipment, boats, autos, shoes, or any other use needed. You're cooperation in this effort will be appreciated.' Man, I love this place. If we get caught with our guns, all we have to say is that we're here to do some hunting. This is awesome!”

 

“Let me see that.” Dean handed Sam the slip of paper.

 

“Huh. It really does say that. Bad grammar and all.” Sam chuckled.

 

“Whatever, geek boy. This place is like having the best alibi ever!” Dean laughed again and Sam gave a grudging half smile. After all, they did hunt, just not animals.

 

Sam closed his laptop as his stomach growled. “Yeah, well let's just try to keep a low profile anyway. Now go get in the shower, and I'll go get us something to eat.”

 

“Killjoy.” Dean muttered without malice. As an afterthought he called after his brother, “Hey! Bring me some pie! Apple if they got it.”

 

Sam called back an affirmative reply and pulled the door closed behind him.

 

* * * * *

 

Dean was sitting in front of the laptop when Sam got back.

 

“That had better not be porn you're looking at, Dean. Last thing we need is to get another computer virus.” Sam complained, setting down the bag of food and the drink tray.

 

“Did you get my pie?” Dean deflected, trying to look innocent as he quickly shut down the computer and closed it. Sam wasn't fooled but let it slide.

 

“Yeah, but it's not apple.”

 

Dean shot him a horror filled look that clearly said, No apple?! What is the world coming to?

 

“So what kind did you get?” Dean asked, causing Sam to inwardly cringe. He knew Dean wasn't going to be happy with the answer.

 

“Uh...” was all Sam got out before Dean started rattling off flavors.

 

“Is it cherry?” Sam shook his head no.

 

“Blueberry?... Blackberry?... Pecan?... Derby pie? Kentucky is supposed to be famous for its derby pie.” Each guess was shot down with a negative shake of Sam's head.

 

“Then what is it?” Dean finally demanded in exasperation.

 

“It's strawberry-rhubarb.” Sam admitted.

 

Dean gave a heartfelt groan.“Really, Sam?”

 

Sam tried to placate him. “If it's any consolation, they said it was the best in the state.”

 

“Yeah, well, people lie!” Dean whined. “You know how much I hate strawberry-rhubarb pie after what that bitch of a witch did to me!”

 

Sam did know but there was nothing he could do about it now. He sighed, sitting down to eat his own meal and told his brother, “Just eat, Dean.”

 

When Dean finally got to the pie, he examined it as if it had been beamed down into its to-go container straight from outer space. Stifling a chuckle, Sam covertly watched his brother pop open the container with a sigh.

 

In his own defense, Sam had _tried_ to get Dean the apple pie he'd requested but the diner had been out. Figuring that it was better than coming back with nothing, he'd opted to bring back any dessert, even if it was the one that brought back bad memories for Dean.

 

The Great-Strawberry-Rhubarb-Pie-Debacle of 1999- as Sam liked to call it- had come about when a young witch, who had felt snubbed by Dean, had cursed him to taste and smell nothing but the last thing he'd eaten for one whole week. It just so happened that a generous slice of strawberry-rhubarb pie had been the last thing to pass Dean's lips.

 

As curses went, this one was fairly benign and Dean had been ecstatic to think that he'd be able to eat his beloved pie for breakfast, lunch, and dinner no matter what he actually had in front of him. By the end of the week, however, Dean had all but stopped eating and both brothers were grateful when the curse finally lifted. After that, Dean had banned strawberry-rhubarb pie from both his diet and his vocabulary.

 

Until now.

 

Sam could have just come back empty-handed (as he usually did when strawberry-rhubarb pie was the only type offered) and let Dean gripe at him about it, but he was sick of his brother accusing him of forgetting his precious pie. Besides, it had been years since the “debacle” and Sam felt that Dean had had plenty of time to get over his aversion.

 

Sam turned his attention back to his brother as Dean grabbed his plastic fork determinedly and sunk it into the wedge of pie. It was obvious from the look on his brother's face, that Dean's longing for the sweet pastry warred with the loathing he felt toward its filling. Keeping a straight face became that much more difficult because the combination of emotions playing across Dean's features made for the most ludicrous expression Sam had ever seen on a human being.

 

Closing his eyes as if in agony, Dean slowly slid the bite between his lips and chewed cautiously. Gradually, his eyes opened, one at a time as he tested the taste and texture on his tongue.

 

Sam knew the precise moment his brother had shoved all fear for the pie aside when he sighed in pleasure and quickly shoveled another, larger, bite into his still full mouth.

 

“Oh my God, Sammy! It's just as awesome as I remember!” Apparently, time had healed all pie-shaped wounds as Dean moaned in ecstasy around a half chewed mouthful of food.

 

“Glad you like it, now would you please eat with your mouth closed? You're grossing me out here.” Sam griped, though he was secretly pleased that he would no longer have to “forget” Dean's pie or substitute it with other, “inferior” desserts.

 

It was pointless to have said anything about Dean's lack of manners though, since Dean pretended not to hear his brother's words. Instead, he continued to chew open-mouthed and moan his way through the rest of his pie slice.

 

When dinner was done, Sam went back to his research while Dean pulled out their arsenal and took stock of what they had at their disposal.

 

He was setting aside their flare guns when Sam spoke. “This is no good. There's nothing new here. Looks like we'll have to just go and talk to the locals.”

 

Dean nodded, “So what are we gonna pose as this time?”

 

Sam thought for a moment. “I think it would just be best to pass ourselves off ashikers.”

 

“Good, because I really don't want to climb a mountain in a monkey suit.”

 

“Agreed. Oh, by the way, we're going to have to apply for waivers to go up on Black Mountain.” Sam stated.

 

“How long will that take?” Dean wondered aloud.He didn't want to have to hang around for a couple of weeks waiting on some piece of paper that said he could go for a walk on a mountain.

 

“Hopefully not long.” Sam stated, looking at his watch. “It's too late to do anything about it today, so we'll have to wait till morning to get them.” It was not the reply that Dean wanted, but he nodded reluctantly.

 

“Go take a shower, Sam, then we'll hit the bar and see what we can find out from the local yokels.” Sam nodded, grabbed some clothes, and headed to the shower.

 

**TBC**

 


	2. Winchesters Take ConTROLL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: As I'm sure everyone knows, Jensen Ackles finally broke down and got himself a Twitter account. Because of this, I, who was probably one of the last people on the planet (besides Jensen) not to have a twitter account, also broke down and got one. Sadly, I don't think this entitles me to ownership. More's the pity.
> 
> On to the story.

**2\. Winchesters Take ConTROLL**

 

Thirty minutes later, they arrived at the bar. Sam sent Dean off, beer in hand, to ask questions of the folks around the pool tables. He knew that Dean would incorporate his questioning into a friendly, high stakes (well, as high stakes as he could make it) game  of eight ball. May as well make some money while they were actually  _ working _ , was Dean's motto.

 

Meanwhile, Sam stayed at the bar. He was glad they'd decided pose as hikers because it was easy to pretend that he and his brother wanted to learn the lay of the land. As it turned out, the people were friendly and information flowed as freely from them as the beer did from the taps. That is, until Sam asked about the disappearances.

 

Every single time that question passed his lips, hastily made excuses( _I've got to get back to my wife now_ or _I've got to go see a man about a horse_ ) quickly followed, leaving Sam staring in bewilderment at the back of the person he'd just been chatting with. He wasn't sure why everyone seemed afraid to talk but it all seemed very hush-hush, kind of like a dirty little secret that the whole bar, maybe even the whole town, was in on.

 

Finally realizing that he was getting nowhere, Sam gave up on quizzing the bar's patrons and settled for watching his brother decimate some poor guy in pool. He hoped Dean was having better luck obtaining information than he had.

 

Suddenly, a twangy voice interrupted his thoughts. “S'cuse me? I hear tell yer lookin' ta go up on Black Mountain?”

 

Sam turned to address the speaker and came face-to-face with a grizzled older man. Something about the guy reminded him of Bobby and he answered respectfully. “Yes sir. My brother and I came here to do some hiking.” He swiveled his body to fully face the man and held out his hand, “I'm Sam, and you are?”

 

“Wyatt.” came the gruff reply. His gnarled hand reached out and firmly grasped Sam's. “Well, you oughta be careful if yer goin' up there cause somethin's been snatchin' folks fer the better part of three years.” Sam nodded and tried to contain his excitement that someone was willingly mentioning something pertaining to his case.

 

“Yeah, I read about it in the papers. They're claiming those people were attacked by black bears? I asked some of the other patrons but nobody would tell me anything.”

 

Wyatt's nostrils flaredas he snorted contemptuously, “That's cause folks round here have been told not ta say anythin'! Meanwhile, the wildlife department is scratchin' their asses and callin' it bears, while people are disappearin', never ta be seen or heard from again! The truth is, nobody knows what's doin' this but I can guarantee ya that it ain't no black bear! There'd be body parts or scraps of belongins left all over the place if that was the case.” Wyatt grunted, shaking his head. Calmly he added, “Now if ya go do out there, and I'm strongly recommendin' that ya don't, make sure yer armed! It'd be a shame fer ya ta go up there and git yerselves killed just cause the damn fools that run this town won't say anythin' fer fear of ruinin' the tourist and huntin' season!” With that, he turned to leave but Sam stopped him.

 

“Excuse me, Wyatt? What do _yo_ _u_ think it is that's taking these people?” Wyatt turned and regarded Sam as if he was trying to divine the depths of Sam's sincerity. “Honestly, I'd really like to know what you think.”

 

The old man harrumphed but answered the question. “Let me tell ya a story. Three years ago, right when this all began, a local boy by the name of Todd King who knew the mountain almost as well as I do, went missin'. A bunch of us formed a search party to look fer him. We were armed to the teeth and had blood hounds to scent him. We broke up into groups of four and branched off from one another in a spoke like formation. Ya followin' me so far?” Wyatt demanded as if he was sure Sam wasn't listening.

 

“Yes sir.” Sam replied attentively, hoping to stay on the man's good side and get the answers he needed.

 

“Good. Now where was I? Oh right, the search party.” Wyatt went on without waiting for an answer from Sam.

 

“We branched off and set out on our paths. Soon old Bessy, best damn bloodhound I ever had by the by, caught the scent and up we went into the mountains. We walked for a coupla hours before Bessy balked. I ain't never seen her act like that. I once saw her go after a bear and never back down. That's how I knew it weren't no bear that got them people cause she'd have gone right after it. Anyhow, right after she stopped, our group started to look around fer signs of Todd. We never did find that boy or any sign that he'd even been there, but I did hear noises I couldn't explain...” He stopped looking lost in thought.

 

“What kind of noises?” Sam asked curiously.

 

“It was a real primitive kinda sound. Ya know how they show cavemen gruntin' and dumbly pointin' at things on t.v.?”

 

Sam remembered Dean making him watch a movie like that once and nodded.

 

“Well that's what it sounded like. I never heard a sound like that in my life, if I'm bein' honest with ya. Leastways, it weren't made by no animal I ever heard of.” Wyatt shrugged.

 

“Anyhow, with no sign of Todd and the light fadin' fast, we decided to pack it in and try again the next day. As we were headin' away, we suddenlygot a snoot full of this Gawd awful smell. I tell ya, if that's what Bessy was smelling, well then I don't rightly blame her fer stoppin' like she did, cause it was just plain ol' nasty. Smelled like a mix of body odor, spoiled meat, and rot. One of our party actually puked, it was that overpowerin'.” Wyatt nodded as if he was affirming the truth of his tale to himself.

 

He focused again on Sam and told him, “In answer to your question young man, I don't rightly know what it is that's been takin' people but I know what it ain't, so you and yer brother watch yer backs up there, ya hear? I don't suppose ya'll are the types that scare easy, are ya?.”

 

“No sir, we're not and don't worry, we _always_ watch each other's backs. Thanks for telling me the truth. I just have one more question. If you don't mind?” Sam hastily added when Wyatt looked like he was going to object.

 

“Tell ya what, ya buy me a shot of bourbon and I'll answer your question.”

 

“Fair enough.” Sam turned away to do just that when a tall man wearing a khaki sheriff's uniform came up.

 

“You cadgin' drinks again, Wyatt?” The officer asked the old man as if it happened on a regular basis.

 

“Nope. Just havin' a friendly conversation. Ain't no law against that now is there?” Wyatt sassed andthe law man's eyes narrowed.

 

“Why don'tcha just leave this nice young man alone and go on home?” The officer retorted.

 

Sam was thinking about coming to the old man's defense but he didn't want to bring any more attention to himself than was absolutely necessary. After all, he and Dean had just recently been at the top of America's Most Wanted list. Having no desire to be back on it, he stayed quiet.

 

Yet again, Wyatt responded with, “Nope! And just so ya know Cody, this nice, young man offered ta buy _me_ a drink. Ain't that right?” 

 

Officer Cody, settled his gaze on Sam causing him to inwardly squirm and when he didn't answer right away, the law man verbally prodded him. “Well son? Is that right?”

 

Sam could see out of the corner of his eye that his brother was swiftly approaching. Knowing that Dean would probably make some smart ass remark and likely get himself recognized or worse, be thrown in jail, Sam quickly nodded his head while replying, “Yes sir. Wyatt has just been telling me to watch out for black bears since I'm going hiking on the mountain tomorrow.”

 

“Has he now?” The officer cast a suspicious glare at Wyatt before turning back to Sam who nodded again. He quickly flashed a warning glance toward Dean who was still cautiously making his way to the bar. His brother, interpreting the gesture correctly, stopped in his tracks but stayed where he was in case something went awry and they had to make a quick getaway.

 

“Lemme talk to ya for a sec, Wyatt.” Officer Cody commanded. He stepped a few paces away and Wyatt, taking his time, followed.

 

Officer Cody had obviously wanted to say what he had to say privately but he hadn't stepped far enough away and Sam overheard every word of the brief one-sided conversation.

 

“Wyatt, ya keep yer mouth shut about those disappearances! We don't want to run people off now, do we? Do we, Wyatt?”

 

The old man said nothing but stared sullenly at Cody.

 

“Go on, now.” said the officer, shooing Wyatt away.

 

Wyatt slowly sauntered back to Sam's side. Cody followed, obviously having something more to add.

 

“Ya can have yer drink, Wyatt but then ya go on home. And for the love of Pete, _behave_ will ya?” That sounded like a warning in Sam's mind, considering what he'd overheard, but once again he just kept his mouth shut.

 

“Yes sir!” Wyatt snapped before sarcastically saluting.

 

Officer Cody shook his head in exasperation and left. Sam inwardly sighed with relief and noted that his brother was moving toward him again.

 

Wyatt quickly drew his attention again. “So, how 'bout that drink now?”

 

Sam chuckled, liking the crusty old man more and more.

 

“So what did Officer Friendly want?” Dean asked, sounding supremely unconcerned, but Sam knew better. Dean would be on high alert until Sam let him know that all was well.

 

“It's fine, Dean. The officer was just checking on my new friend here.” Sam stated and Dean relaxed.

 

“Aw, don't pay no mind ta Cody. He may talk big but when it comes down to it he's all bark an' no bite.” Wyatt said.

 

Sam flagged down the bartender and ordered them all a round of drinks before turning to Dean.

 

“Dean, meet Wyatt. Wyatt, this is my brother, Dean.” Sam said by way of introductions and then silently waited.

 

“Wyatt?” Dean gushed, “As in 'I'm your huckleberry' Wyatt Earp?”

 

Sam sighed, tossing Dean a bitchface, hoping that his brother's words hadn't offended the man but Wyatt surprised him by saying, “Yep. Although I think Doc Holliday originally said that.”

 

“Oh. Right.” Dean replied, looking momentarily crestfallen at having misquoted one of his favorite western movies. He quickly rebounded, however, by shaking Wyatt's hand with an awed, “Nice to meet you.” He then seated himself on the bar stool next to Sam as the bartender appeared with their drinks.

 

“So what was yer question?” Wyatt asked, licking his beard obscured lips in anticipation of his forthcoming bourbon shot.

 

Sam racked his brain trying to recall what it was he wanted to ask before the officer had cut in and distracted him.

 

“Well? C'mon, boy. I don' got all night.” Wyatt goaded, and again, Sam was reminded of Bobby. Dean must have been too because he perked up when he heard those surly words spoken. Before his brother could say anything though, Sam remembered his question.

 

“Are the mines here still operational?” He already knew the answer to that question of course but it was a nice lead in to his the one he really wanted to ask.

 

“Yep. Although some folks are wantin' to stop the minin' cause they're worried it'll shorten the summit or some such nonsense.” Wyatt snorted.

 

Sam nodded politely though he didn't particularly care about the impact that the mining would have on the height of the mountain.

 

“Where ya goin' with this?” Wyatt asked, looking confused.

 

“Well with all the hikers going missing, I was wondering if any coal miners had disappeared the same way?” Sam felt his brother leaning in closer ready to butt in on the conversation but when Dean opened his mouth to speak, Sam nudged him and shook his head to indicate that he'd tell him everything later.

 

“Nonethat I know of. At least not yet, but the place I told ya about where we went lookin' fer Todd was at least fifteen miles away from any of the mines. Maybe the miners just work too far out of this thing's huntin' zone.” Wyatt speculated. Thatgave Sam an idea.

 

“Hey Wyatt? If I sat a map of the area in front of you could you pinpoint the area you searched?” Sam asked, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

 

“Why?” the old man retorted, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

 

“So my brother and I can avoid that area, of course.” Sam replied evenly.

 

“Yeah. We'd rather not end up with our pictures on a milk carton, ya know?” added Dean.

 

“Hmm. Good thinkin'. You actually got a map on ya right now?” Wyatt responded.

 

“Yep.” Sam answered, mimicking his new friend. He pulled out the map he'd tucked into his back pocket and spread it out in front of Wyatt. “So where do we need to stay away from?”

 

Wyatt asked the bartender for a pen and quickly circled the area where the search party had been. “Do you boys have one of those satellite GPS thingamabobs?”

 

Sam looked at Dean,who grinned in amusement and silently mouthed 'thingamabobs' before turning around and answering, “No, we don't. Why?”

 

“Well I'll tell ya what, you come to my house in the morning and I'll let you borrow mine. Wait. On second thought, maybe I should just rent ya one.”

 

“ _Rent_ us one? Why can't we just borrow one?”Dean asked querulously.

 

“Cause ya might notmake it back, that's why.” Wyatt explained as if it were obvious.

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”Sam huffed, slightly miffed.“How much are you gonna charge us?”

 

“Fifty bucks.”the old man shot back.

 

“Deal.” Sam agreed, writing down Wyatt's address and then shaking the man's hand.

 

The brothers finished their drinks and headed for the exit. “See you bright and early tomorrow morning.” Sam called back to Wyatt, who just waved in acknowledgment.

 

Once in the car Dean grinned at Sam and said, “I like him, Sammy. He says 'thingamabobs' _and_ he knew who said, 'I'm your huckleberry'.”

 

Sam just shook his head while looking at the map with his flashlight. “I think our best bet to catch this thing is going to be in the area Wyatt marked on the map.”

 

“Okay.” Dean agreed easily,then asked, “So, what did you and Wyatt talk about?”

 

Remembering that he'd promised to tell his brother everything, Sam recounted a truncated version of his conversation with the old man.

 

“Interesting.” Was Dean's only reply before he started his baby.

 

There were a few moments of silence as Dean maneuvered the car out of the bar's parking lot and then he suddenly said, “You know, I asked everyone I played pool with about the disappearances and they all clammed up. Wouldn't say a word. Did anyone, besides Wyatt, tell you anything?”

 

“No. Every time I brought it up they all had somewhere else they suddenly had to be. I think I figured out why nobody would talk though.” Sam answered.

 

“Yeah? Why?” Dean glanced over at Sam waiting for his reply.

 

“When Cody pulled Wyatt aside I overheard him tell Wyatt to keep his mouth shut about the disappearances because he didn't want us to be scared off. And earlier, before Cody interrupted, Wyatt said that, and I quote, ' the damn fools that run this town won't say anythin' fer fear of ruinin' the tourist and huntin' season'.”

 

Dean chuckled at his brother's impeccable imitation of their new friend, but quickly sobered. “That's pretty shitty of them not to warn people. It's not like it's a state secret anyway since it's been in the papers. How the hell can they sleep at night knowing that they're willingly putting people's lives in danger?” Dean growled in righteous indignation.

 

“I don't know but we'll take care of the problem like we always do and that'll be the end of it.” Sam stated calmly as his brother turned the car into the lot of their hotel.

 

“Damn straight we will!” Dean agreed vehemently, throwing his baby into park then exiting the car.

 

“Let's get some sleep. I have a feeling that it's going to be a long day tomorrow.” Sam sighed, following his brother into their room.

 

*** * * * ***

 

Bright and early the next morning, the brothers loaded their gear into the trunk of the Impala and headed to the local diner for breakfast.

 

After their stomachs were full and they had plenty of caffeine running through their veins, they stopped and applied for their walk-on-the-mountain waivers, as Dean called them, and then headed to the small grocery store for provisions.

 

Sam loaded up on granola bars, trail mix, and bottled water while Dean made sure to get several packages of beef jerky (“I need man food, not bird food, Samantha!”) and an economy-sized bag of peanut M&M's. Once that task was finished, they made their way to Wyatt's.

 

"Is this it?" Dean asked, glancing at the store front and then at his brother for confirmation.

 

Sam checked the address scrawled on the paper in his hand then compared it to the numbers nailed over the door.

 

"This is the place." Sam confirmed. "Wyatt's Hunting and Sporting Goods. Huh. He must sleep over the store.”

 

"Guess he'll have plenty of those GPS 'thingamabobs' to charge us rent on then. Sly old bastard." Dean chuckled.

 

"Yeah, and since we're here, we may as well get a couple of backpacks. Our duffel bags are too bulky to lug up the side of a mountain." Sam explained.

 

Dean shrugged then nodded in agreement.

 

They exited the car, headed up to the door, and pushed through it. Their arrival was announced with the chime of a bell.

 

"Mornin'! Glad to see you boys could make it." Wyatt carped good-naturedly from behind the counter while exaggeratedly eying his watch.

 

"Some of us need our beauty sleep." Dean shot back amiably, clearly enjoying the lighthearted banter.

 

"Apparently, some of us need it mor'n others.” Wyatt retorted, raising his eyebrows and grinning. “So, what can I do ya for?”

 

“Last night, you said something about renting us one of those GPS hand held navigators.” Sam told Wyatt, who nodded. “We could also use a couple of new backpacks. Our gear is a little rough.”

 

“I got just whatcha need right over here.” Wyatt informed them, leading them over to racks of backpacking gear. “I'll have yer whatchamacallit ready at the counter.” The old man said, ambling away.

 

They picked out a couple of small but sturdy looking backpacks and made their way back up to the front of the store.

 

Wyatt plopped the tracking device down on the counter and informed them, “I'll need a credit card from ya for the rental paperwork.”

 

Sam and Dean looked at each other in dismay.

 

“Whatsa matter? Ya got credit cards, dontcha?”

 

“Um... We actually left our credit cards back in our motel room.” Sam lied. “We could just buy one. We have cash.”

 

If Wyatt thought Sam's excuse odd, he didn't say anything. Instead, he just pointed them in the direction of the correct aisle.

 

“Damn it, Sam! Quit spending all my hard won money!” Dean complained in a low voice.

 

“What did you want me to do, Dean? He knows our names. I couldn't just give him 'Adam Glass's' card and hope he wouldn't read the name on it!” Sam snapped back quietly in aggravation.

 

“Why'd you have to tell him our real names anyway?” Dean mumbled.

 

Sam ignored him and in silence they picked out the least expensive model that displayed latitude and longitude coordinates.

 

Back at the counter, Wyatt rang them up, noting Dean's grimace as he dug for the wad of cash in his pocket. “Guess ya won't be forgettin' yer credit cards again anytime soon, will ya?” He quipped.

 

“Got that right.” Dean grumbled, shooting an evil look at his brother.

 

Wyatt chuckled and said, “Tell ya what, I'll throw in a pack of batteries free of charge.” He reached behind him, grabbed a sixteen pack of AAAs, and pushed them across the counter.

 

“Thanks.” Sam smiled.

 

“Pleasure doin' business with ya!” Wyatt remarked sincerely, touching his forelock. He then pointed a finger at Sam and added sternly, “You remember what I told ya last night and be careful, ya hear? If ya'll don't check back with me by tomorrow mornin', I'll be formin' a search party.”

 

Dean chuckled, believing that Wyatt was joking, eliciting a piercing look from the older man. “I'm bein' serious.”

 

The smile quickly vanished from Dean's face and he cleared his throat. “Yes sir. We'll be careful.”

 

Wyatt bobbed his head then shooed them towards the door. “Go on now. Yer wastin' daylight.”

 

Dean and Sam scooped up their purchases, said a couple of hasty see-you-laters, and were out the door and on the road in a matter of minutes.

 

**TBC**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I threw in a shout out to Supernatural writer, Adam Glass.
> 
> A/N 2: In 1984, the National Child Safety Council coordinated with seven-hundred independent dairies and their milk carton manufacturers to put the pictures and biographies of missing children on the side panels of the milk cartons. It was in an effort to raise America's awareness about abducted kids.
> 
> Reviews are sincerely appreciated.


	3. Winchesters Take A sTROLL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: No ownership infringement going on here. I just like to swim in the Supernatural kiddie pool. 
> 
> Apologies for forgetting to post a new chapter last Monday. I got distracted.

**3\. Winchesters Take A sTROLL**

 

It was around ten in the morning before Sam and Dean finally made their way to the parking lot of the trail head they wanted.

 

They filled their new packs full of food, water, weapons, and flashlights. Into the waist bands of their jeans, they each stuffed a flare gun and a pistol. It was bulky and a little awkward but neither Sam nor Dean wanted to be unprepared if the monster wasn't a Wendigo. Sam even slipped a silver knife into his boot for good measure.

 

“Well aren't you quite the boy scout.” Dean teased, pulling the straps of his pack onto his shoulders.

 

Sam rolled his eyes, adjusting his own straps, before saying, “It's always better to be prepared, especially since we don't know what we're really dealing with.”

 

“True.” Dean agreed.

 

Sam pulled out their new GPS tracker. He handed it to Dean and told his brother to make himself useful and open the packaging. Meanwhile he pulled out the batteries and then loaded them into the small device when Dean passed it over.

 

Once it was up and running, Sam programmed their waypoint then turned to his brother. “You ready?”

 

Dean nodded and replied, “Let's go gank this sonofabitch!”

 

With that, they started up the trail.

 

** o0~SPN~0o **

 

A couple hours later, the brothers stopped for a rest and Sam consulted their GPS gadget. The night before, he'd figured out the general coordinates that Wyatt had marked on his map. Unfortunately, the circled spot translated into quite a large area for the brothers to canvas.

 

“Are we close?” Dean panted, slightly out of breath from both the rigorous hike and the fact that he'd swallowed three quarters of a bottle of water without pausing for breath.

 

“You want the good news or the bad news?” Sam queried.

 

“There's good news _and_ bad news?” Dean moaned, sliding down the tree he'd been leaning against to sit at its base.

 

Sam nodded and Dean replied, “Good news first then.”

 

Without preamble, Sam answered, “We're almost there. The bad news is we're going to have a lot of ground to cover.”

 

“Awesome.” Dean mumbled sarcastically.

 

“Look on the bright side...” Sam started.

 

Dean cut him off. “There's a bright side?”

 

Sam nodded and said, “Wyatt told me that there was this terrible smell and a grunting noise, so if we just listen for that and take note of any foul smells, we'll know we're close.”

 

“I guess it's worth a shot. Right now though, I'm ready for lunch.” As if Dean's stomach heard him say the 'L' word, it growled in agreement.

 

Sam chuckled and joined his brother at the base of the tree where they split a bag of jerky and (at Sam's insistence) had a couple of granola bars.

 

Twenty minutes later, Dean stood and brushed himself off.

 

“C'mon. I want to get this done and be back in time for dinner.” Dean started to walk away, mumbling again about bird food. Sam grinned at his brother's retreating form and then followed.

 

They'd been climbing steadily for about a half an hour when Dean stopped, looked at his watch, then vigorously shook his hand and wrist. He turned to his brother, “I think my watch is busted.”

 

“Why?” asked Sam.

 

“Because it's getting dark. How long have we been out here?” Dean asked, rubbing his sleeve across his damp foerehead.

 

Sam glanced around. “Your watch is fine. It is getting darker but I think that's just because the forest is a lot more dense here and the sun can't get through very well.”

 

“Well _that's_ going to make it easier to find our monster,” Dean griped.

 

Sam didn't say anything to that but pulled out the GPS device and consulted it. “We're in the right area now, more or less. I say we start from this spot and work our way outward.”

 

Dean nodded and they trudged onward.

 

They lost track of how much time they'd spent marching up and down, and back and forth, looking for any sign of their monstrous target. The sunlight, already dimmed by the thick foliage, had faded so much that they resorted to pulling out their flashlights in order to keep up their search.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Dean stumbled backward as if he'd run into a wall, and gagged. “Oh! Oh that's nasty! What the hell is that smell?!” He pulled out the bandana he kept in his pocket for emergencies and covered his mouth and nose with it.

 

Sam smelled it too. Copying his brother, his words were quickly muffled by his own bandana. “No idea, but I'll bet it means we're close. C'mon.”

 

They hadn't gone ten feet before they discovered a wide-mouthed entrance to a cave.

 

“Do you think this could be the place?” Sam asked quietly as he shined his flashlight around the area in front of the cave. He had no desire to get caught unawares by some lurking menace.

 

“Guess we'll find out,” Dean replied. “Let's stash our stuff and check it out.”

 

They hid their packs in a dense clump of nearby bushes then Dean asked, “We still thinking Wendigo?”

 

“Not sure. How about you carry your gun and I'll carry my flare gun, that way we'll have all the bases covered.” Sam proposed and Dean nodded.

 

Realizing they couldn't carry their guns and flashlights while still covering their noses, the brothers stuffed the cloths back into their pockets.

 

Taking the lead, Dean shined his flashlight around the entrance to check for hidden threats. Seeing none he gestured silently to Sam and they stepped into the cave.

 

A couple of feet in, Dean dry-heaved then whispered, “Man, it smells so much worse in here!”

 

“I think I just found the reason why,” Sam stated nasally, trying to inhale only through his mouth.

 

Dean's eyes followed the trajectory of Sam's flashlight beam. There, in the pale circle of light, was a heap of human remains. The skeletons near the bottom of the pile were fleshless, while the ones at the top were still gooey.

 

“Damn. Guess we found our victims.” Dean sighed glumly.

 

“Yeah, and the source of Wyatt's spoiled meat and rot smell.” Sam added, holding his sleeve to his nose. “Let's see if thing is home so we can kill it and get the hell out of here.”

 

Moving cautiously, they pushed further into the cave but only found an enormous stack of what looked like deer and bear pelts and a large pile of backpacking gear.

 

Sam moved to the gear. Squatting next the pile he put his flare gun down and began riffling through it.

 

“What are you doing?” Dean asked quietly, keeping his eyes peeled and his gun at the ready.

 

“Looking for the pack that belonged to Wyatt's friend, Todd,” He answered.

 

“And why are you doing that?” Dean inquired impatiently.

 

“Closure,” Sam replied sadly.

 

Dean sighed. “I'm going to go keep watch at the entrance.” He said softly and left Sam to continue his morbid search.

 

Finally, after many minutes of examining the battered packs inside and out, Sam found a rust colored one with the initials T.K. embroidered on the front and pulled it out of the pile. Knowing it was the one he wanted, he threw one of the straps over his shoulder and headed toward the mouth of the cave where he knew Dean was waiting for him.

 

Hearing the approaching footsteps of his little brother, he called back, “Alright, time to find this thing.” All Dean wanted to do now was kill the evil son of a bitch so that he could get back to the motel, wash the smell of this place off himself, have a nice big juicy cheese burger and try to put this behind him.

 

Unfortunately, that wasn't meant to be.

 

Dean took a few stepsout of the cave and turned to check his brother's progress. “Hurry up, Sam!”

 

When he pivoted back around, he found himself facinga ginormous set of extremely saggy, greenish-gray colored breasts.

 

In what felt like slow motion, he raised his flashlight andgaped at the ugliest face he'd ever seen, which, for Dean, was saying something.

 

Its (her?) thin-lipped mouth hung open dumbly exposing yellowish-gray, brick-sized teeth. Above that was a grotesquely bulbous nose displayed prominently in the center of the creature's face. Its eyes, a dull yellow color with an even duller expression, were situated very close together beneath the unibrow slashed across its protuberant forehead. The creature's hair, which looked like several bird's nests mashed together, stuck out in matted clumps around its horrible face.

 

Dean backed away, forgetting the gun in his hand, in an effort to put some distance between himself and the monster. “SAAAMMMM!” He yelled, not taking his eyes off the scowling creature's face.

 

He needed to warn his brother, he fully intended to, but the shock of seeing this _she-thing_ muddled his brain so that he could only babble out, “Tits! It's got tits!... The monster has tits! It's a...”

 

Sam never got to hear what _it_ was because Dean wasn't given the chance to finish his sentence.

 

Hearing the panic in his brother's voice, Sam dashed toward the mouth of the cave, droppingTodd's pack and readying his flare gun. He arrived just in time to see a giant _thing_ that was not a Wendigoswing a tree trunk sized club at his brother.

 

The thick, unyielding wood connected with a sickening whump and crunch which sent Dean flying into a standing tree where he collapsed into an unconscious heap on the ground.

 

“Dean!” Sam hollered, skirting the distracted beast and darting to his brother's side. He felt for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it. That being done, he traded the flare gun for his _other_ gun and turned to fire on the hulking creature but he wasn't quick enough.

 

The enormous monster had managed to stealthily sneak up behind him and its club was already moving in a downward arc toward his head.

 

Throwing himself backward, he managed to shift just enough so that what would have been a killing blow to the skull was only a glancing knock to the arm. Still, the hit had been powerful enough to knock his gun away and the intense pain from the impact stunned him so that he was sure his arm was broken.

 

Defenseless without his weapons, he slumped protectively over his brother, feigning unconsciousness. He looked through slitted eyelids for his missing gun, but with limited range of sight and the darkness working against him, he couldn't see it anywhere.

 

The creature suddenly grabbed his ankles and he watched with growing alarm as it pulled a thick rope from its animal skin belt and bound them together. Every jounce of his legs sent pain careening up his bad arm and he surreptitiously bit his lip to keep from crying out. Despite his discomfort, he was thankful that the rope wasn't tied so far up his legs that it covered his concealed knife.

 

When the thing had finished tying his feet, it threw the rope up over a branch and hauled him off the ground with several jerky yanks. Sam gritted his teeth, nearly breaking them, as each tug, once again, agonizingly jarred his arm. The motion finally stopped when Sam was suspended, upside-down, several feet off the ground.

 

It hurt like hell to let his injured limb dangle but since he was supposed be unconscious he just kept his jaw clenched against the pain and helplessly watched through his eyelashes as the monster hung his brother in the same manner from another tree nearby. They were spaced too far apart to swing and reach each other but at least they were within talking distance.

 

Once the brutish creature was finished, it plodded slowly away as if it had lost interest. Sam knew that probably wasn't the case but it suited his needs for the time being. He could turn his attention to waking Dean and hopefully use the knife he'd had the forethought to stuff into his boot to get them free.

 

“Dean! Wake up! Dean!” Sam hissed, his eyes constantly darting around the surrounding area for their captor.

 

He kept on calling to his brother until finally, after several minutes of desperate whispered calls, Dean came slowly to with a moaned, “Unnghh!”

 

The eldest Winchester was confused as to why there was so much pain and pressure in his head. He didn't remember drinking that much the night before but it felt like he now had the mother of all hangovers going on. Maybe some hot chick had roofied him, which was a shame because he'd have probably gone along willingly. At the very least, he hoped he'd had fun.

 

He opened his eyes and blinked, trying to bring his surroundings into focus and hopefully stop the damn world from spinning. He was able to make out a small beam of light coming from the ground and realized it was from a flashlight... and that he was dangling upside-down!

 

What kind of kinky shit was this chick into...?

 

Chick!

 

Suddenly, everything flooded back to him in vivid color. The case. Searching the wooded mountain for a monster that was attacking hikers. Finding its disgusting lair. Then coming face-to-face with the huge, saggy-breasted thing that had whacked him with God knows what while he'd tried to warn Sam.

 

Sam!

 

Dean looked around frantically and hollered for his brother.

 

“Shh! Be quiet or you'll bring it back over here!” came the whispered command from his left. “Are you okay?”

 

Now that he had his brother safely in his sights, the adrenalin was fast wearing off. He mentally cataloged his injuries. In addition to the pressure in his head, his back throbbed in numerous places and his chest felt like a Mack truck had rolled on top of him and parked there. He felt nauseous and it was difficult to breathe. He was fairly certain that he had several cracked ribs as well. Altogether, his pain rated a hard eight and a half but he'd had worse and they were still in danger, so he lied.

 

"Yeah. I think so." Dean answered in a loud whisper. He swallowed hard in an effort to keep from tossing his cookies but that wasn't his biggest concern right now. To distract himself from his bodily aches, Dean croaked out, “You okay?”

 

“I think that thing broke my arm but I'm alright otherwise.” Sam hissed in pain, enforcing his claim.

 

“Speaking of that thing, did you see it? It has tits! It's a girl monster!” Dean exclaimed softly, but it was still a little too loud for comfort.

 

Sam shushed him again but felt a small wave of relief wash over him because if Dean could comment about female anatomy, even monstrous female anatomy, then he was going to be okay. That is, if they could get away in one piece. They needed a plan.

 

After a heartbeat of silence, Dean asked, “Any clue what the hell that thing is?”

 

“None,” replied Sam. “I'm going to try to reach my knife and cut us loose. You keep watch.”

 

“Good thing you came prepared.” Dean complimented his brother softly but fervently. “Do you think you can you reach your rope?”

 

“Don't know but I'm gonna try.” He said very quietly. Honestly, Sam wasn't sure how this was going to work. Even if he managed to reach the knife and cut his rope, with one arm broken, there would be no way to stop himself from crashing to the ground. He'd just have to cross that bridge when... if... he could get to it.

 

He winced in pain as his broken appendage shifted slightly. Hanging upside-down had not done his arm any favors. It was throbbing like hell from all the blood that had rushed to it and his lungs were starting to feel compressed. He'd once read somewhere that being inverted for extended periods of time could cause blood to pool in the lungs and head, leading to pulmonary edema or stroke. As if this situation wasn't dangerous enough...

 

Focusing on his task and gritting his teeth against the oncoming pain, Sam lurched toward his feet hoping to snag the knife hilt that he could just see peeking above the top of his boot. He tried this four times before successfully managing to grab hold of the shaft. He tugged and wiggled it, but the bindings were too tight for him to pull the blade free and he huffed in frustration.

 

“Sam?” Dean spoke loudly and Sam recognized the tone as a warning. He let himself slide slowly back down into his upended position and looked over at his brother who was staring off into the darkness. Sam turned and had to strain his eyes to see what Dean was seeing but he finally made out the shape of the ugly creature shambling back towards them.

 

“Crap!” Sam growled. Couldn't anything go right for them? “What do we do now?” He called to his brother in a low undertone.

 

“Uh... Hold on I'll think of something,” Dean replied.

 

“Better do it fast cause it's almost here,” Sam shot back.

 

Dean thought for a split second before remembering his flare gun, which was thankfully still tucked in his waist band. He reached up gingerly behind himself and latched onto the grip, taking care not to drop it. He knew there was a huge possibility that the flare wouldn't kill the creature but maybe it would buy them some time.

 

As the monster ambled closer it set its sights on Sam and moved toward him. Dean immediately went into protection mode and shouted at the thing.

 

“Hey, fugly!” The massive being lurched around to look at him. “Yeah! I'm talking to you, bitch! Get away from my brother!”

 

The creature, its features once again bathed in the flashlight's beam, was truly grotesque. And furious. It bellowed at him in a hulk-like way obviously taking exception to one or both of the names that it had been called. Dean didn't care. He wanted the thing to come toward him and it obliged.

 

As it lumbered forward he aimed the flare gun at where he assumed her heart would be and when the she-thing had moved a few steps away from Sam, he pulled the trigger. Whatever outcome he'd been hoping for was crushed as the flare just ricocheted harmlessly off of the thing's chest and into the forest.

 

“Damn it!” Dean yelled, dropping the useless flare gun as the jumbo-sized she-thing continued unharmed toward him.

 

“Sam? Got any brilliant ideas?” Dean called out in a panic.

 

Sam, slightly panicked himself, thought quickly but before he could say anything the flare suddenly exploded with an almost deafening bang and a flash of blinding light. Thankfully, it distracted the hulking figure, who was only a step away from his brother, and gave him a moment to think.

 

“Pray!” Sam yelled.

 

“What?!” Dean shouted back, unsure he'd heard his brother correctly.

 

“Pray, Dean! Call Cas! NOW!” Sam roared, pointing to the monster whose focus was back on Dean.

 

“Uhhh... Dear Castiel, I praytoyoutogetyourfeatheryassdownhereandhelpuskillthisshe-bitchnow!”

 

Dean had strung the words together so fast that Sam almost didn't understand them but he hoped that Cas had because the beast was right in front of his brother now. She...it... looked even more pissed than before, if that was even possible.

 

Suddenly, it reached out an elephant-sized, sausage-like finger and poked Dean roughly in his midriff causing the older Winchester to swing like a pendulum from his tree branch.

 

“Oooofffff!” Dean huffed as he swung back and forth. He tried Cas again, “CAS! _accckkk_ ... HELP! _unnnff_... ANGELIC 911! _oooof_...” He grunted as she kept jabbing him.

 

Sam couldn't just watch as the thing poked his brother to death so he added a hasty prayer of his own. “Uh, dear Castiel who has saved us time and time again, I, Sam Winchester, pray for you to come to Black Mountain in Harlan, Kentucky and save me and my brother Dean from this, uh, monster.” He quickly gave the last known coordinates they'd been at, knowing that Cas couldn't find them because of the warding on their ribs, before adding, “I'm not sure if that will bring you right to us or not... Just, uh, listen for screaming and be careful. This thing is huge. Amen.”

 

Sam hoped that was enough to get the angel to them because he didn't have the means help his brother and Dean couldn't take much more. Even though he couldn't get loose he could still try to create a distraction, so he started screaming colorful obscenities at the beast.

 

It worked. The she-thing turned its dull yellow gaze on him and moved slowly (apparently this thing only had the one speed) toward him. He kept yelling, drawing the ugly thing closer, and hoped that he was loud enough by himself to lead Cas to them as Dean had passed out or been knocked out again.

 

**TBC**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a review. New chapter up next Monday.


	4. Sam and Dean Winchester Present: How to Kill a TROLL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this just picks right up where we last left our boys. Let's see if Castiel gets there in time to help save the day! I apologize for the lateness of this update. 
> 
> Also of note: This will be the longest chapter. It would have been part of the last chapter but I had to cut it in half so I wouldn't overwhelm anyone with the extreme length. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I sincerely wish I could say I owned them but I'm sure if I did we'd be seeing a whole lot more shirtless Winchesters.

Sam kept up his distracting tirade against the beast slowly stalking toward him while keeping an eye on his unconscious brother and praying that Cas would get there in time.

 

Five seconds later, his prayers were answered when a gravelly monotone voice interrupted his shouts. “Hello, Sam. I heard both yours and Dean's prayers. Where is Dean?” Cas queried.

 

Sam breathed a quick sigh of relief then pointed to his brother dangling unconscious and loose-limbed in the nearby tree. He then noticed sluggish movement out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Look out!”

 

Cas pushed Sam out of way and ducked the club that almost took off his head, with ease. Then, quick as a blink, he rushed his would-be assailant and leaped at it. Touching two fingers to the thing's protuberant forehead, it stopped in its tracks as its eyes slid closed.

 

Sam had the sudden inane urge to yell “Timber!” as the giant body fell face first to the forest floor with a resounding thud. The thing hit the ground so hard that he could feel the tremors through the bindings on his feet.

 

“Thanks, Cas. You got here just in time.” Sam suddenly hissed in pain as he jostled his broken arm.

 

“You are hurt.” Cas stated matter-of-factly.

 

“Broken arm. Dean got the worst of it though.” He gestured again to his brother in the neighboring tree with his good arm, “If you help me down, I'll help you with him.”

 

“Of course,” The angel replied. Before he cut Sam down he did the fingers to the forehead thing again and Sam immediately felt better. Cas pulled his angel blade and cut the rope where it was tied to the base of a tree.

 

Sam braced himself and cringed, thinking he was going to crash to the ground but he just sort of floated down, turning right side up, and landed softly on his feet. He leaned down and rid himself of his bindings completely before going to stand beneath his brother.

 

“Hey! Sleeping Beauty. Wake up!” Sam gently patted his brother's cheeks but he couldn't rouse Dean. Sam started to worry that maybe he hadn't lured the creature away in time because the eldest Winchester was sickly pale, almost ashen. He felt for a pulse but couldn't find one.

 

Cas was suddenly at Sam's side.

 

“Is he... Dead?” Sam swallowed harshly, fearing the worst.

 

Cas gave Dean a quick once over and shook his head. “No, but he has sustained several serious injuries and will die very soon if I don't tend him now.”

 

Relieved to hear that Dean was still among the living, Sam backed away to let Cas do his thing.

 

The angel touched Dean's forehead for ten agonizing seconds. When he dropped his hand Dean's eyes fluttered and opened.

 

“Gah!” Dean yelped. “Cas! Personal space, dude!”

 

“Shut up, Dean. He just saved your ass. Twice. I think he's entitled to stand on your head if he wants to,” Sam chided.

 

“Uh... Thanks Cas,” Dean said sheepishly by way of an apology.

 

“You're welcome,” Cas responded in his usual monotone.

 

“Do you think you could get me down now?” Dean groused, uncomfortable with the near chick-flick moment.

 

“I'm actually leaning toward leaving you up there, Dean,” Sam responded.

 

“Bitch,” Dean growled.

 

“Jerk,” Sam smirked at Dean's expression.

 

He moved forward, braced himself under his brother, then nodded at Cas who cut the rope that held Dean in the air. As had happened with Sam, Dean drifted down, turned right-side upin midair and landed on his feet. Sam pulled his knife and sliced through the ties around Dean's ankles.

 

Remembering what had brought them there in the first place, Dean quickly pivoted until his eyes fell on the downed savage beast, now incongruously snoring, a few feet away.

 

“What the hell happened while I was out? And what the _hell_ is that thing?” Dean demanded pointing to the enormous, foul-smelling lump on the ground.

 

"It's a troll.” Cas said in wonder, squatting down next to the hideous form.

 

Dean watched as the angel examined the snoozing troll. To Sam, he quietly said, “Looks more like a beached whale if you ask me.” He then chuckled at his own joke while Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's immaturity.

 

“So? Trolls exist? I thought they were just a myth, like Bigfoot.” Sam addressed the angel curiously.

 

“Oh no. They exist. Although I thought they had gone extinct some hundred years before.” Cas answered still kneeling next to the peacefully sleeping creature.

 

“Apparently not,” Sam said wryly.

 

Cas, not cognizant of Sam's sarcasm said, “It would seem you are correct.” He continued to study the troll with that crooked head tilt thing he always did. “I haven't seen one this close in over a millennium.”

 

The troll suddenly snuffled and stirred.

 

“Uh, Cas? Maybe we could save the history lesson for another time. Like after we hog tie it to a tree.” Dean muttered, nervously watching the troll.

 

Cas looked at Dean and nodded.“Agreed. Although they are slow, they can inflict serious damage when they are enraged. When it wakes you can expect it to be very angry. ” Cas told them, not noticing that the subject of their conversation had suddenly opened its eyes.

 

“Cas!” Both brothers simultaneously called out in warning, but it was too late. The troll's hand shot out and grabbed Cas by the neck, stood up, and started shaking him. Sam and Dean watched, momentarily stunned, as the angel's limbs and head lolled and flailed about as if he were a rag doll. Wincing when they heard the loud crack of his neck breaking, they silently thanked their lucky stars that Cas was an angel and could not be so easily damaged, then leaped into action.

 

Scrambling over to the flashlight, Dean scooped it up so that they could search for their guns. They needed to put this big ugly nuisance down for good.

 

Sam quickly found his fallen gun and Dean yelled for him to, “Shoot the damn thing, already!”

 

Sam did, firing off six rounds in rapid succession.

 

The brothers watched in disbelief as the troll's skin seemed to fold, like rubber, around the bullets and then release them so that they fell, intact, to the ground.

 

“What the hell...?” Sam uttered, perplexed.

 

Dean was a bit more vociferous. “How the fuck do we kill this thing?”

 

The troll paused, still keeping a tight hold on Cas's neck, and shot yet another furious gaze at the Winchesters. Then it started to stalk toward them.

 

“I don't know, but maybe we should stay out of its reach,” Sam said as the hulking figure slowly got closer and closer.

 

“Scatter!” Dean yelled as the troll lunged for him.

 

Dean took off in one direction and Sam in another. They danced around the troll, keeping well out of its reach, and taunted it in the hopes of keeping its attention on them long enough for Cas to knock it out again.

 

Cas kept reaching out but the troll, whether consciously or subconsciously, managed to keep him just out of range.

 

Dean wondered fleetingly why Cas didn't just zap himself out of the monster's grasp and then zap back and take care of it but he didn't have time to dwell on the issue as the troll started picking up rocks and launching them like missiles at the brothers.

 

Finally, after several misses, the enraged creature picked up a small rock about the size of a human head and flung it at Dean. He managed to sidestep slightly but an edge of the stone caught him above his right eye. It only grazed him but it was a hard enough blow to knock him off his feet.

 

“Dean!” Sam yelled, rushing forward with a sense of déjà vu as his brother lay still on the ground.

 

The troll, smelling victory, lurched forward to grab hold of Dean. As it did this, Cas stretched forward and managed to touch the troll's brow, once more sending it off to troll dream land.

 

That was all fine and good but the thing was falling again and it was going to fall right on Sam's insensible brother.

 

“Cas! Grab her! She's going to crush Dean!” Sam yelled, scrambling forward to reach Dean in time.

 

Cas, free now, grabbed a hold of the troll's animal skin loincloth, halting the massive body mid-fall so that it hovered only a couple of feet above Dean.

 

Sam leaned down to pull his brother out from under Cas's burden when he saw something that suddenly made him want to laugh.

 

“Cas? You okay? You got her?”

 

“Yes, Sam. Do you need help?”

 

“No no! I've got this. Just... give me a minute,” Sam quickly pulled out his cell phone, took a picture and then proceeded to pull his brother's lax frame out of danger.

 

“Okay, Cas. You can let her go.” Seconds later the big limp body hit the ground with another Earth vibrating thud.

 

Sam, with help from Cas, proceeded to revive his brother.

 

When Dean's eyes fluttered open, Sam patted his brother's cheek and greeted him. “Hey. Welcome back. Again. You okay? You seeing stars or anything?”

 

“I'm fine.” Dean scowled, brusquely pushing Sam's hands away from his face and standing up.

 

“Cas? You okay?” Dean asked. The angel nodded. “Good. Then tell me how to kill that big-ass troll because I'm definitely in the mood to gank something now!” Dean snarled.

 

“Sunlight,” Cas answered simply.

 

“That's _it_?!” The brothers cried in unison.

 

“Yes. Sunlight will turn her to stone, a state from which she will not be able to return,” Cas told them.

 

Sam turned to his brother as if something had just occurred to him. “That's why she likes this area. No sun ever gets through here.”

 

The troll made waking noises again, drawing their attention.

 

“We should...” Dean started.

 

“Yeah.” Sam replied, following Dean's train of thought. “Cas? Would you like to do the honors?” He asked.

 

Cas nodded rubbing his neck. “Although she cannot kill me I have no desire to be shaken like that again. My vessel does not deserve such treatment.”

 

Suddenly, he disappeared with a whooshing sound of feathers. Two seconds later he was back with a silvery-colored thin rope. He grabbed the troll by an ankle and easily pulled her over to a sturdy tree. Lifting her as if she weighed no more than a feather, Cas stood her upright. The rope magically snaked around her, binding her tightly, neck to ankles, to the tree.

 

Still cautious but feeling much safer, the brothers moved forward to examine the troll.

 

“This'll be something to add to Dad's journal,” Dean remarked to his brother.

 

“Yeah. Do you think any other hunter has ever run across a troll before?” Sam wondered.

 

“And lived to tell about it? Probably not,” Dean answered.

 

The troll awoke with a start causing Sam and Dean to jump away from her in alarm. Once the creature realized she was bound, she flexed with all her might against the rope.

 

“Cas, please tell me that that rope is angelically made and that she can't possibly escape it,” Dean said, never taking his eyes off the troll.

 

“That rope is angelically made and she can't possibly escape it,” Cas answered verbatim.

 

“Good.” A mischievous glint sparkled in Dean's eyes and Sam wondered what could have possibly caused it.

 

“What are you thinking, Dean?” Sam asked suspiciously.

 

“It's troll naming time,” Dean answered.

 

“Oh for the love of...” Sam muttered, not finishing his sentence. He knew it would do no good to try and stop Dean because his brother would do what he wanted whether Sam agreed to it or not.

 

“Hey, we're going to be here for a while so I need something to do to amuse myself,” Dean said, slightly defensive.

 

Sam looked at the angel who was watching the proceedings in bewilderment. He turned to Sam with clear questions in his eyes. The younger Winchester shrugged and shook his head, telling Cas without words not to bother trying to figure out what was going on in Dean's mind.

 

Meanwhile, Dean paced in front of the wary looking troll, trying to figure out what to name her. “You could be a Gertrude. An ugly name for an ugly creature...” He stopped and pursed his lips in consideration. “On second thought that would be an insult to the Gertrudes of this world,” Dean chortled.

 

The troll flexed against the ropes again and Dean flashed his teeth at her in a taunting grin. “You know there'sno way out of this don't you? You can't get free. You may be strong but you're no Superwoman, you know? Superwoman would be able to get free because she rules! You? Not so much. I think I'm just gonna have to keep it simple and call you Ugly!” Dean blurted decidedly.

 

The troll growled.

 

“You're an idiot, Dean,” Sam said, his bitchface at full power.

 

“Whatever. I'm hilarious and she _is_ ugly so that makes me right!” Sam could almost hear the _na na na_ _boo boo_ hitched onto the end of his brother's sentence.

 

Cas patiently listened to the ridiculous conversation without a word until the brothers were quiet. Then, he finally asked them, “How is it you came to be hunting a troll?”

 

“How about we start a fire and then we'll tell you all about it.” Sam replied, chafing his hands together. It had gotten chilly since the sun had fully gone down.

 

They set about collecting wood and within twenty minutes had a roaring fire going. Sam and Dean collected their packs (including Todd King's) and found their missing weapons. Finally, they settled down in front of the fire and pulled out their food.

 

“Gah! I wish that thing didn't smell so bad,” Sam complained, as the scent of the troll wafted toward them when the wind shifted. “I'm losing my appetite here.”

 

“Yes. Troll's scents are very strong. It is actually what led me to you. Well that, and your screams, Sam,” Cas stated offhandedly.

 

Dean cackled, “Aw, poor little Samantha. Did the big bad troll scare you?”

 

Sam ignored his annoying big brother who was now laughing like a demented hyena. “I thought angels didn't really notice mundane things like that.”

 

When Dean managed to compose himself, Cas responded to Sam's comment.

 

“Generally speaking, we do not, but a troll's scent is strong enough to assail even the Host's olfactory senses,” He paused looking at Dean before continuing. “I believe your phrase, 'smells like shit', would be considered an understatement.” He said in a completely deadpan voice.

 

The brothers looked at each other for a split second before bursting into gales of laughter.

 

When they calmed, Dean addressed his brother, “You better suck it up and just eat Sammy. It's a long time before sunrise.”

 

Sam grumbled and shot his brother another bitchface for good measure, but pulled out a granola bar and began eating.

 

Cas repeated his request to know why they were hunting the troll and they took turns telling him. When they were done with their tale, Sam pulled out his phone, brought up the recorder and asked the angel to tell them what he knew about trolls.

 

“You're recording this?” Dean asked, amazed at his brother's nerdiness.

 

“Yeah. For Dad's journal. Why?” Sam responded.

 

Dean thought quietly for a moment. It would be useful information to have if they ever needed to pass it on to other hunters. For that reason alone Dean kept his teasing to a minimum, “Do what you gotta do, geek boy.”

 

Sam's only reaction was a quick huff, after which he pressed the record button and gestured for the angel to begin.

 

Cas launched into the fascinating history of troll genealogy. He then instructed them on the different tribes (there were six) of trolls. After giving them the rundown on their troll's preferred living arrangements (which they'd seen for themselves), Cas told them about how they hunted and prepared their food.

 

“They are exceedingly slow but very stealthy. Once they capture their prey, they hang it from trees, as you both learned, and spend a couple of days tenderizing it...”

 

“Tenderizing?” Sam cut in faintly. He had a feeling he knew where Cas was going with this.

 

“Yes. Using their fists or their clubs, a troll will beat and punch their game until the desired result is achieved,” Cas replied.

 

Dean felt queasy at the thought of being pummeled until he was soft enough to eat and was grateful that he hadn't eaten more at dinner. He was also thankful that Cas didn't go into gory detail with his explanation.

 

Sam, too, felt a bit nauseous and decided to change the subject. “How come our bullets just bounced off of that thing? I mean, does it have any physical weaknesses at all?”

 

“Oh yes. Several, but the areas are often very difficult to reach. Their armpits are soft spots, as well as the backs of their knees. Once, a few of my brothers and I watched the troll wars and saw a warrior throw a spear into a troll's mouth. It took a while for the troll to die but it finally did. Where the groin meets the thigh is also a weak spot but it is very difficult to get that close without being clubbed to death. The eyes are also a good area to aim for but you have to hit them at just the right angle to kill them. You may succeed in blinding them, which will slow them even more but their sense of smell is still strong enough to lead them to you. The rest of a troll's skin is exceptionally tough. Neither blades nor bullets can pierce it.”

 

Dean shivered at the thought of having to go anywhere near that thing's crotch.

 

Cas suddenly stood and walked toward the troll. Sam, ever in pursuit of scholarly greatness, grabbed his phone and scrambled to join the angel. Dean followed also, curious to see if Cas would inadvertently give him some new info to use as insult ammunition.

 

“Trolls can also grow to great heights, Some reach ten feet or taller.Although females of the species are generally smaller, this troll would be considered very short by their standards.” Cas explained, examining the troll's repellent features up close and very personal.

 

“What? She not tall enough for you Cas?” Dean joked.

 

Cas looked at him askance and Dean sighed, “Never mind,” then mumbled about wasting good jokes on beings that can't understand them.

 

Cas turned his focus back to the troll. “From the looks of her features I'd say that somewhere in her lineage there was dwarf blood.”

 

Sam who'd been quietly absorbing all this information, opened his mouth to speak but Dean interrupted with a crude question aimed at the troll. “So, that's it, huh Ugly? Your momma did the mattress mambo with a dwarf?” He began cackling at his own wit.

 

“Dean? Why the hell are you antagonizing her? It's not like she can go anywhere and you're just making an ass out of yourself.” Sam chided. It had been a long day and he was sick of his brother's antics. He just wanted to get all the details about trolls that he could and then take a short nap while they waited for dawn.

 

“Because I owe her. She tried to kill us in case you've forgotten! So since I can't hurt her physically, I'm using the only means left to me. Words. If you don't like it, you don't have to listen,” Dean growled back.

 

They were staring at each other in aggravation when a series of guttural grunts spilled from the troll's mouth drawing their attention.

 

Sam was standing in the perfect position to see the angel's face and watched as Cas's eyes widened in what could only be described as shock.Wondering if the seraph could decipher the guttural sounds, he asked, “Was that...? Did she say something, Cas?”

 

“Uh... Perhaps it would be better if you don't know what she said,” Cas replied, looking worriedly at Dean who was staring back at him expectantly.

 

“Cas? What. Did. She. Say?” Dean's tone suggested violence and while Cas knew that he couldn't hurt him he knew that Dean would badger him until he got his answers.

 

“Well,as with Enochian, it loses a little something in translation but it was something along the lines of, 'Your mother must have mated with a baboon'."

 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean snarled, stalking toward the troll.

 

Sam darted forward and wrapped his arms around his brother's chest. He struggled in earnest to hold him back. “Dean! Stop! What the hell are you trying to do?”

 

“I'm not _trying_ to do anything! I'm going to punch that bitch square in her big-ass nose and then I'm going to skin her and wear her hide as a body armor! Let me go, Sam!”

 

“Dude, you can't hurt her! Right Cas?” Sam entreated Cas.

 

Cas stepped up and grabbed Dean gently but firmly by the arm. “Sam is correct. The only thing you will accomplish is injuring yourself. Again. Furthermore, a knife will not pierce her skin so there would be no way to 'wear her hide as body armor',” Cas air quoted.

 

Dean's struggles subsided but he looked at the troll and told her, “Enjoy your moment now, Ugly, because when the sun comes up tomorrow, my friend here is going to make sure you get to soak up plenty of UV rays.”

 

Dean pulled out of Cas and Sam's grasps then stalked over to the campfire and stared broodingly into the dancing flames.

 

The angel and the youngest Winchester shared a look and silently deciding to give Dean some space. To pass the time, they continued their discussion on trolls.

 

When Cas's fount of knowledge finally ran dry, he and Sam went back to the fire and found Dean curled up on the ground, asleep.

 

“Sam, you should try to sleep as well. I'll watch over you and wake you both when it's time,” the angel told the youngest Winchester.

 

“Thanks, Cas.” Sam sighed appreciatively, pulling his own pack to him and lying down on the hard packed ground. He wasn't comfortable by any stretch of the imagination but he was so tired that it didn't take him any time at all to pass out.

 

The rest of night passed quickly for Castiel as he watched over his friends.

 

About an hour before dawn, the troll seemed to sense its time drawing near and began struggling in earnest to free itself. All it accomplished was making a lot of noise, which disturbed the Winchesters almost to the point of waking.

 

Getting to his feet, Cas moved around the fire, knelt between the brothers heads, and lightly touched two fingers to their temples. They calmed and settled back into a deep sleep.

 

He moved to the troll next and quietly tried to have a conversation with her in her native tongue. His questions about her tribe were met with sullen silence. His queries about her homeland were met with silence _and_ renewed struggles. When he told her that efforts to free herself were in vain, she told him to eat shit and die.

 

He told her that under no circumstances would he eat excrement and that, as a celestial being, he could not die. Then, with a wave of his hand, he muted her voice and silenced her struggles.

 

Satisfied that the captive no longer had the means to wake his friends, he returned to his post by the Winchesters and leaned back to enjoy the sounds of nature.

 

A little over an hour later, Cas felt the sun begin its ascent and moved to the Winchesters again, this time to wake them.

 

“Sam, Dean. Wake up. It is time.” The angel prodded their shoulders.

 

Sam's eyes shot open and he quickly sat up. He was as eager as a child on Christmas morning to record the troll's transformation.

 

Dean, on the other hand resisted. “Five more minutes, Sam,” he mumbled, smooshing the side of his face into his makeshift pillow.

 

“Let me,” Sam said to Cas. He moved into position behind his brother, making sure he was out of range of flailing limbs, then yelled as loud as he could, “Get your ass up, Dean! Now! Now! Now!”

 

Dean shot up, wild eyed, and aimed his gun around the small clearing looking for threats. Realizing that it had just been his pain-in-the-ass little brother, he lowered his gun. “What the hell, Sam! Are you stupid? I could have shot you.”

 

Sam let the insult on his intelligence slide, knowing that Dean had just been worried for his safety. “It's time, Dean,” he told his brother.

 

Dean reached into his pack, grabbed a bottle of water, gargled and swished the first mouthful, then swallowed the rest of it down. “Ugh, I need some coffee.” He groaned.

 

“We'll get some when we get back down the mountain but right now it's time to watch a troll get turned to stone!” Sam practically cheered, busting out the kind of eagerness he reserved for when learning was involved.

 

Dean hid a smile at his brother's barely contained exuberance. He knew the conversation during the ride back to town was going to be peppered with every last detail of the transformation. “Okay, let's do this.”

 

They walked over to the troll. Sam looked at Cas and urged him on. “Alright Cas. Do your thing.”

 

Before he started Cas had a warning for them. “Stand well away from her. I'll have to cut away her binding so that the sun can hit the majority of her body. This won't work otherwise.”

 

Dean looked at his friend in annoyance, “You're just telling us this now?” He growled.

 

“Do not worry. She will not be able to do anything once the sun hits her and if she manages to escape its rays, I'll smite her.” Cas assured them.

 

The troll's frantic struggling drew Sam's attention and he noted the wild-eyed terror in her eyes. She fought mightily against the angelically enhanced rope but it didn't budge.

 

Dean, too engrossed in this new development, took no notice. “What?! Why didn't you just smite her in the first place?” Exasperation bled into his voice.

 

“Originally, I was going to do just that but Sam asked me to let him record her transformation from living flesh to stone. He wants to be able to have a flawless documentation of the event so that he can pass it on to other hunters,” Cas replied.

 

Slightly mollified, Dean weakly retorted, “Well she better not try anything. You hear me Ugly? You just go into the light where you belong.” Dean nudged his brother with his elbow guffawing at his own pun, “Get it Sam? Go into the light?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes but gave his brother a small grin and simply humored him, “I get it, Dean.”

 

Turning his mind to the task at hand, Sam switched his phone from camera to video and nodded to Cas who was waiting for his signal.

 

Cas looked up at the canopy of trees and the leaves softly started to sway allowing pinpoints of sunlight to shoot through the open spaces. Sam watched in fascination as a tiny pinprick of light hit the exposed skin of the troll's face, turning instantaneously into a spot of stone. More appeared and in greater numbers as the thin shafts of light shot down with increased frequency.

 

“Look, Sam! Troll zits!” Dean sniggered but Sam was transfixed at the sight and didn't even hear his brother's words.

 

“Be ready, Sam,” Castiel called. “I'm severing her bonds... NOW!”

 

The ropes slid off of the gigantic body and Dean prepared to grab the entranced Sam and make a run for it if the troll so much as looked their way funny.

 

He needn't have worried though because the troll was exceptionally slow, both mentally and physically, and Cas had things well under control.

 

As soon as the troll took one step toward the brothers, the leaves of the trees above them parted and a huge beam of light bathed (Dean mentally figured it was the only kind of bath the creature had ever had in its life) the hulking figure in warm bright light.

 

Sam and Dean-who was still prepared to drag his little brother out of the way if things went pear-shaped-watched the transformation in awe.

 

It started with the tips of her hair solidifying into granite and slowly crept downward across the monsters head. The conversion was also accompanied by what sounded like millions of pebbles cascading down a hill.

 

“Is that the sound of her... hardening?” Dean breathed quietly to his brother.

 

“I think so,” Sam replied his voice hushed with wonder.

 

The process continued, slowly hardening her face into a savage expression. Her arms, which froze into giant claws that reached for the brothers, were the next casualty followed by her torso. Her legs and feet were the last to petrify.

 

The whole transformation only took two minutes.

 

“Wow. That was...” Dean's words trailed off as he searched for a fitting description.

 

“Anticlimactic?” Sam supplied.

 

“If by anticlimactic you mean it was nice that we didn't have to simultaneously run for our lives while trying to find the thing's weak spot and avoid being bludgeoned to death, then, yes. For us this was very anticlimactic.” Dean paused and thought about the whole ordeal. “You know it was kind of nice to not have to worry about dying every second. I think we should invite Cas along more often. What do you say, Cas? Feel up to helping us out on hunts every once in a while?”

 

“I will always help when you call, Dean, provided I'm not busy with my Heavenly duties,” Cas amended.

 

“That was amazing! Dean, I recorded the whole thing. I can't wait to get back so that I can start sharing it with other hunters,” gushed Sam.

 

“Alright, alright Sasquatch. We still have to get back to town, check in with Wyatt, check out of the motel, and hit the road before we can share your awesome archival footage with anyone,” Dean stated pragmatically.

 

Sam calmed a bit but Dean could still see that fanatical gleam in his brother's eye and he inwardly groaned. It was definitely going to be a long trip back into town.

 

Dean turned to his friend, “Thanks a lot, Cas. We couldn't have done this without out you.”

 

“Yeah, thanks!” Sam chimed in. “Dean and I would probably just be tenderized dinner morsels if you hadn't showed up!”

 

“It was my pleasure. Perhaps one day I can tell my brothers and sisters that trolls still exist.” The angel smiled then disappeared in a rustle of wings.

 

Pocketing his phone, Sam picked up his two packs and looked at his brother who was staring at the newly formed statue, “Dean? You comin'?”

 

“Yeah. Be right there. Just want to get one last look at Ugly here.” He waved Sam on and slowly approached the solid figure. “That'll teach you to mess with the Winchesters you skanky troll.” Dean growled to the troll who was now past hearing.

 

“Dean, come on already! I never thought I'd say this but I'm hungry and I'm sick of granola. Let's go get some bacon!” Sam called to him already holding the pocket navigator in his hand.

 

“That's my boy!” Dean exclaimed. He grabbed his backpack, put his arms through the straps, and joined his brother.

 

**TBC**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As always, reviews are extremely appreciated. Last chapter up next Monday (for sure this time, I promise)!


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, last chapter. For those of you who've stuck with me this long, I hope you'll stick around a little longer and enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: If they can put a man on the moon, why can't I own the boys? And win the lottery while I'm at it?

As anticipated, the drive back to Wyatt's saw Sam excitedly recounting the troll's transformation in graphic detail as if his brother hadn't been present throughout the whole process. Dean, of course, rolled his eyes in exasperation but secretly enjoyed watching his little brother get his geek on. It was so rare that Sam showed such enthusiasm for anything anymore that Dean wasn't about to spoil it.

 

Sadly, the closer they got to Wyatt's, the more somber Sam became and by the time the car finally pulled to a stop in front of the store, the youngest Winchester had gone completely quiet.

 

Dean watched with concern as Sam reached behind the seat and pulled forth the grim burden of Todd's pack.

 

The brothers sat in silence for a moment while Sam presumably prepared himself to impart the unfortunate news to Wyatt of his friend's demise. Finally, he addressed Dean. “Ready?”

 

“Yep. Let's go,” Dean replied simply.

 

The brothers solemnly exited the Impala and entered the shop.

 

Wyatt's careworn face shot up at the sound of the bell and then broke into a relieved smile.

 

Dean, taking in the man's haggard appearance, wondered if he'd slept at all the night before.

 

“Well lookit what the cat dragged in...” Wyatt's words faded away and his smile slipped as he got a good look at the two men. He sprung up off his stool and rounded the counter to stand in front of them.

 

Upon closer examination, he noted that though they were filthy and bloody, there were no wounds on them. “What the hell happened to ya?”

 

At the old man's stunned question, Sam and Dean looked at each other wondering what could have caused such a reaction.

 

Taking in each other's dirty, bloodied appearances, they both bit back groans and wondered how could they have forgotten to clean up and change their clothes? Such a stupid, careless mistake meant that they would now have to figure out a lie to tell their new friend.

 

“Well... Uh...” Dean looked at Sam for help.

 

Wyatt, hearing Dean's hesitation, knew that the boy was going to lie to him. “Uh uh! No lies! You two are goin' to come upstairs, get cleaned up and then yer gonna tell me the truth!”

 

With a brisk no-nonsense manner, he stepped around the brothers to the customer entrance, locked the door, and flipped the sign from open to closed.

 

When he turned back to them, he noted with narrowed eyes their animated but silent discussion of wiggling eyebrows and head shakes.

 

“C'mon. Time's a wastin',” he snapped and then led the way to the rear of the store, through a door, and up a set of steps.

 

The Winchesters followed quietly behind.

 

Wyatt opened the door to his home and ushered them into the kitchen. Pointing imperiously to the table, he commanded them, “Sit. I'm goin' to go get some cleanin' supplies and when I come back, you two are gonna start talkin'.”

 

When Wyatt had left the room, Sam took off Todd's pack, stashed it beneath the table, and wearily folded his lanky frame into one of the chairs.

 

Dean joined him and quietly asked, “What should we tell him?”

 

“Honestly? I think we should tell him the truth, especially since I have Todd's pack.” Sam sighed.

 

Dean contemplated Sam's words, thinking of the many things that could go wrong with his brother's plan of telling the truth. Still having difficulty wrapping his own head around the fact that trolls existed, he could only imagine how it would sound to someone not in the life.

 

_Hi Wyatt. As you know, we're Sam and Dean but what you don't know is that we hunt monsters for a living. In fact, we just took out the monster that killed your friend... What was it that killed him you ask? Why, it was a troll... Yeah, shocked the hell out of us too... No, no need to thank us. Just knowing that we saved some lives is reward enough for us..._

 

Dean inwardly scoffed to himself. _Yeah. Sure. And maybe one day Cas will get all of our pop culture references and Sam and I will have a stationary home!_

 

There were no guarantees that, upon hearing the truth, the guy wouldn't think that they were the psychopathic murderers who'd killed all the hikers themselves.

 

They'd been there and dealt with that scenario too many times.

 

No. Telling the truth was too risky a gamble and Dean was unwilling to take the chance that Wyatt might not believe them. People had their limits, after all.

 

“It's not a good idea, Sam. What if he thinks we're the murderers? That _is_ his friends backpack you've got there. How do you think that's going to look to him?” Dean reasoned, wishing now that he'd told Sam to leave the pack in the car, or better yet, left it for the authorities to find.

 

“I don't think he'd go there, Dean. He was the one who said it wasn't bears going after these people and he heard the weird sounds and noticed the smell of the thing. I think he can handle this. If he needs convincing, I've got something that should do the trick.” Sam said, patting the pocket that held his cell phone.

 

Dean opened his mouth to argue that their video footage wasn't really a failsafe but quickly snapped it shut when the old man came back bearing towels, washcloths, soap and a bucket.

 

Without a word, Wyatt moved to the sink to fill the bucket with warm water. When he was done, he turned back to the brothers and plunked the bucket down on the table. “Now, you two are going to wash and talk.”

 

Unable to warn his brother again not to say anything, Dean quickly started talking in the hopes that Sam would get the hint and keep his mouth shut.

 

“We were up on the mountain...” Dean began but Wyatt cut him off.

 

“Not you. Yer a nice fella, Dean but you ain't gonna tell me the truth.” He said, not unkindly, then turned to Sam. “You start.”

 

Dean gnashed his teeth knowing without a doubt that his lawyer-brained brother would tell Wyatt the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help him.

 

Sighing quietly with frustration, he leaned back in his chair, waited for the inevitable fallout, and started looking around the room for suitable escape routes.

 

“First off, I would like to ask you to be as open-minded about this as possible because a lot of it is going to sound...” He broke off, trying to find the right word.

 

“Unbelievable,” Dean ground out. That one simple word conveyed dual meanings and Dean shot his brother an if-looks-could-kill expression.

 

“Yes. Unbelievable.” Sam sighed, acknowledging without words that his brother's meaning was duly noted. He dropped his head, pinched the bridge of his nose, then continued.

 

“We're hunters but we don't hunt animals.” Sam blurted enigmatically, hoping to ease Wyatt gently into the topic. He peeked up through his hair at the old man, trying to judge the old man's reaction.

 

“Yeah? So you boys _are_ the type that hunt things that go bump in the night?” Wyatt asked calmly, though his question sounded more like a statement of fact.

 

“You... You know about hunters?” Dean asked, nearly strangling on his shock.

 

“Course I do. I was pretty sure I knew what ya were the moment I heard ya askin' bout the missing people at the bar the other night. When ya asked about the search party's coordinates, I was one-hundred percent certain,” Wyatt answered promptly.

 

“How?” asked Sam.

 

“W- who?” Dean chimed in.

 

“Start washin' up and I'll tell ya all about it,” Wyatt said, settling into a seat at the table across from the brothers.

 

Dean and Sam picked up the wash cloths, dipped them into the bucket, and lathered them up with the soap. As soon as they each started scrubbing their faces, Wyatt cleared his throat and launched into his tale.

 

“Some years ago, people started comin' up dead, throats ripped out, their hearts torn right outta their chests. At one point things got so bad that the police started enforcin' a curfew. Never one to toe the line, I was out late one evening, walkin' my dog when suddenly, another great big ol' dog burst outta some bushes and jumped at me. My dog intercepted its attack and they fought some before that thing got in a good one and my Butch went down. It turned to attack me then but before it could, someone yelled at me to duck and I hit the deck. There was a single gunshot, then a yelp and when I looked up the evil critter was down. I was getting' ready to thank the person who helped me when right before my eyes, that mangy dead dog changed into a dead nekkid human! Well, I thought I was seein' things so I blinked but the body in front of me was still a dead man with a gapin', bloody hole in its chest.” Wyatt paused then, looking at the brothers.

 

“I think that area is clean,” he told them drolly.

 

The Winchesters, both so engrossed in their friend's story, noticed that they'd each been distractedly scrubbing away at the same spot on their faces for the past five minutes.

 

Dropping his hand and not caring that he'd rubbed his face raw, Dean asked, “Then what happened? Did you meet the hunter? You must have or how could you know about us?”

 

Sam started to shush his brother but Wyatt saved him the trouble. “Hold yer horses boy, I'm gettin' there. So, this fella stepped outta the shadows and knelt down next to my dog. Poor Butch was hurt bad and I was too much of a jibberin' mess ta help much. He asked me if there was anyplace we could take the dog. All I could do was nod.

 

“He backed his pick-up up to that body and manhandled it into the bed. I gotta admit that I thought he was plumb nuts and I told him so. He told me that he got that a lot but that he could explain. We got into his truck and I took him back to my place where he told me his name and what he did for a living. He then explained to me all about the supernatural world and told me he was sorry. When I asked him what for, he said because once ya get a glimpse of that world you can't ever be ignorant of it again.” He paused and Sam and Dean nodded in agreement with that statement.

 

“He patched up my dog as best he could, saved his life actually, and I invited him ta stay for a drink. He said he had ta do something first and then left. I assume he went ta take care of that body but ta this day, I have no idea what he did with it. He came back and shared that drink with me, told me a little bit more about the _huntin'_ business, and then he left. Gave me his card before he vamoosed though, and told me that if I ever had any more problems with things of this nature not ta hesitate to call him. I meant ta do just that, figurin' that this would be right up his alley, but then ya'll showed up. Hang on.” He stood and went over to cabinet in the corner of the kitchen and began rummaging through its drawers.

 

Sam and Dean watched in bemusement, their faces still mostly covered in blood and grime, their wash cloths forgotten, as their host pulled an endless string of odds and ends from the drawer before finding what he was searching for.

 

“Eureka!” Wyatt exclaimed and came back to the table bearing a yellowed, crumpled business card. He handed it to Dean and asked him, “You know this fella?”

 

Dean looked at the name on the card and his eyes widened. Wordlessly, he showed it to Sam who, upon reading the name, looked just as surprised.

 

“Bobby Singer helped you with the skinwalker?” Sam asked in wonder.

 

“Yeah. So ya know him?”

 

Dean nodded, “He practically raised us. Taught us a lot of what we know. After we finish here we're going to see him.”

 

“Well tell him Wyatt Sanders says hello,” he said and the brothers nodded their assent in unison. “Now how bout you two finish cleaning up and then tell me what it was you hunted.”

 

The brothers quickly finished washing and Dean, having no more qualms about telling the truth since seeing Bobby's card, turned to his little brother. “Want to do the honors?”

 

Sam nodded and leaned down to pull the pack out from under the table. He put it on the smooth wooden surface and slid it across to the old man.

 

“First of all, I just want you to know how very sorry we are for your loss and that you had to find out about your friend this way,” Sam said gravely.

 

Wyatt set his jaw and nodded stoically. “It's better than not knowin' at all. Don't know how I'm gonna break the news ta his Momma, though.” He sighed sadly.

 

Dean looked down at the table top feeling guilty as he always did when he couldn't save a life.

 

In a tone that was much more subdued than the one he'd used on the ride to Wyatt's, Sam gave an unembellished account of the brothers' run in with the troll only leaving out the part about having angelic help.

 

“So... Lemme get this straight. A _troll_ did this?” The old man's tone was slightly disbelieving and the brothers couldn't blame him for his skepticism.

 

They nodded.

 

“And... sunlight turned it to stone?” he asked, his voice pitched slightly higher.

 

This was it. The moment of truth. Wyatt would either accept them at their word, or run screaming from the premises, calling for the cops.

 

“I know it's hard to believe, but we were there. We saw it all happen with our own eyes,” Sam said sincerely.

 

“Yeah. Felt it too,” Dean added, rubbing the back of his head in memory of the bashing it took.

 

“That's somethin' I was wondering about. You boys came into the shop lookin' like you'd just walked outta some horror movie but neither of ya has a scratch or even a bruise on ya. How's that possible?” Wyatt queried with naked curiosity.

 

Dean and Sam did their silent communication thing while the old man patiently waited for them to decide if they were gonna tell him or not.

 

“Wyatt,” Dean said seriously, “You really don't want to know.”

 

Wyatt stared back and forth between the brothers and decided not to press. He's seen enough in his lifetime to know that some things were better left to the imagination. He figured that he was lucky to have gotten them to tell him what they had.

 

Nodding his acceptance of their verdict, he changed the subject. “So I'm assumin' you boys have a plan on how to tell the authorities about the cave.”

 

Sam nodded. “An anonymous tip usually does the trick.”

 

Wyatt grinned then slapped his hands together. “Well then, how 'bout I make you boys some breakfast 'fore ya get outta here?”

 

Dean nodded eagerly but Sam shook his head. “You don't have to do that, Wyatt. We don't want to impose or cause you to lose business.”

 

“Sam...” Dean whined, giving Sam his why-must-you-always-turn-down-free-stuff look.

 

Wyatt's chuckle stopped the budding argument. “Right, cause I do such a booming trade at eight in the morning on a Tuesday. Truthfully son, I don't think ya should be seen in public lookin' the way you do. Yer liable to get the cops called on ya that way so why don't ya do this old guy a favor and let me make ya breakfast. It's the least I can do,” he added when it looked like Sam might say no again.

 

Conceding defeat, Sam agreed with the stipulation that he and Dean be allowed to help.

 

Wyatt agreed and they set to work, first preparing the meal, then demolishingit (Dean alone had three helpings) and cleaning up afterward.

 

Once the last dish had been dried, Dean addressed his new friend. “Well we hate to eat and run but we have a few things to do before we head out of town. Thanks a lot for breakfast.”

 

“Yeah. We really appreciate it. And if you ever have any problems like this again, just give us a call and let us know.” Sam said, handing Wyatt a slip of paper with both brothers' numbers written on it.

 

“Will do.” He shook their hands and escorted them back down into the store.

 

“Thanks again, Wyatt,” Sam said, turning to check that the coast was clear. Suddenly remembering something he turned back to the old man. “By the way, you might not want to say anything about our conversation...”

 

“Son, I'm eccentric not crazy, though that's exactly what the town's folk would think if I told them this tale. Don't worry, yer secret's safe with me,” Wyatt assured them.

 

The brothers nodded, once again, in unison.

 

They shook the man's hand once more. “Guess I'd better get to work. You boys take it easy now and stay safe.”

 

Sam smiled and stepped out of the store.

 

“Yes sir. We'll tell Bobby you said hello,” Dean said before following his brother out the door.

 

Once in the Impala, Dean looked at his brother. “That went way better than I thought it would. We didn't even have to show Wyatt the video.”

 

“Yeah well, you give people far too little credit. I _told_ you he'd be okay with everything,” Sam stated smugly.

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well if you ask me, you give people far too much credit. If it weren't for that run-in with Bobby and that skinwalker all those years ago, I doubt he'd have been quite as open-minded,” Dean snarked.

 

Sam hummed distractedly, busy going through the pictures on his phone.

 

Dean started the car and was about to put it into gear when Sam stopped him.

 

“Hey Dean, check this out.” Sam fought to stifle his chuckle as he turned the phone screen toward his brother.

 

Dean glanced at it dismissively and then did a double take. “What the hell?! SAM!”

 

Sam cackled with glee and looked back at the picture. It really was a masterpiece and he looked forward to teasing Dean endlessly with it.

 

In the picture, Dean was passed out cold, a blissfully, peaceful expression on his face. However, hovering only inches above his unconscious head, was a very distinctive pair of hideous breasts.

 

“Troll boobs, Sam?! I could have woke up and hit my mouth on those monstrosities. Erase it! Right now!” Dean commanded with a growl.

 

“Nope!” Sam laughed again. “Just look at it as payback for a lifetime of embarrassing pictures that you've taken of me. You know, I think when I get a chance, I'm gonna blow it up, get it framed, and keep it in the trunk of the Impala. Or maybe I can commission one of those painters that does the portraits on velvet! What do you think about that?”

 

“I think I'm gonna have to kick your ass!” Dean exclaimed, pulling away from the curb. “Delete it now, dude! I'm warning you!”

 

“Not a chance!” Sam shot back.

 

“Bitch!” Dean scowled.

 

“Jerk!” Sam grinned.

 

The (mostly) good-natured squabbling continued all the way back to the motel.

 

* * * * * *

 

Two days later, Officer Cody received an anonymous tip with coordinates that would lead the police to the whereabouts of the many people who had gone missing over the last three years.

 

The police department mustered a task force, which included a forensic anthropologist, and headed to the given coordinates.

 

There, they found a grotesque, menacing looking statue in front of a cave.

 

A thorough search of the cave yielded sixteen bodies (the varying stages of decomposition matching up with time frame each person had gone missing), fifteen backpacks and close to forty animal pelts. No signs of the depraved individuals who'd committed the heinous act could be found.

 

The media claimed a cult was responsible; that the weird ugly statue was an effigy to some unknown pagan god and all the poor dead people and the animal pelts that had been found had been the cult's sacrifices.

 

Only one person in the whole of Harlan County knew the truth, however, but he'd sworn never to tell a living soul.

 

 

**THE END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sadly this is the end of the journey. If you enjoyed this please feel free to leave a review. And to all of you who read, and reviewed this story, thank you sooooooo much. Words cannot convey my appreciation to you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Secondary A/N: The motel that Sam and Dean stay at is based off of an actual motel in Harlan County, Kentucky. If you google Mount Aire Motel Harlan KY and click on the TripAdvisor link (second link), it will show you pictures of the motel. There is also a picture of the slip of paper that Dean reads from.  
> Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a review!


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